35 




HELPING CHARLIE 



HELPING CHARLIE 

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



BY 

V. D. HYDE 




BOSTON 

^rHE FOUR SEAS COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



Copyright, 1^22, hy 
The Four Seas Company ^ 

All rights are expressly reserved. For rights of public per- 
formance, address the publishers, who are the author's agents. 



©CI.D 82915 



The Four Seas Press 
Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 






HELPING CHARLIE 



CHARACTERS 

[In the order of their appearance] 

Phoebe 

Marian Youngwife 
Henri Froideveau 
Charlie Youngwife 

TIME AND PLACE 

New York City, the Present, late in the afternoon of a 
March day. 

SETTING 

Parlor in Harlem railroad flat. Door across L. C. corner 
into hall; also L. with portieres into bedroom. Ri. wall 
two windows with pier glass between. Gaslog fireplace, 
with mantlepiece above, across Ri. C. corner. Piano up 
centre, and box couch at right angles to fireplace. Table 
with work basket and cardplate on top, and a shelf 
under top. Rocking chair near couch. Canterbury and 
bookcase combined, phonograph, chairs, etc., character- 
istic of m^oderate circumstances. 



HELPING CHARLIE 



[As curtain rises the room is in twilight, unoccupied, 
the phonograph is playing "Tipperary." 
Enter Phoebe L., with a vase full of flowers in one 
hand, a photograph — evidently just arrived in the mail, 
as the wrappings are still hanging from it — in the other. 
Phoebe is rather tall, stout, rather slatternly, good- 
looking.] 

Phoebe. (Placing vase on table, turns on lights, holds 
picture up and addresses it) Well, that sure is a pleasant 
smile, Jakey, considering I'm givin' the flowers you said 
you picked in the field so early in the mornin' for me to 
the missus. But they ain't got no smell but green and 
wet, like all them wild flowers. And anyway she'll appre- 
ciate them a lot more'n me — with me it's just that you 
thought enough to pick 'em. Mr. might bring her home 
some now and then — ^but these married men never think ! 
And of course flowers is flowers in March. (Leans 
photograph against vase, and begins to pick threads, etc., 
off floor, puts them on table; each time looks at picture 
and takes fresh start in her talk) But why didn't you 
bring 'em this mornin', you gilly? Then she could wear 
'em to the reception — she didn't have a flower for her 
kearsage, poor thing. Oh-h-h-h! (Picks up a spool of 
thread and follows it around in its meanderings, wrapped 
around chair legs, etc. ) I wish she wouldn't do her writin' 
and her sewin' here too — ^how can I keep it decent ? Ain't 
the bedroom or the dinin' room good enough ! (Bumps 
head as she gets under piano for spool) Confound it ! 
Shut up — shut up — (Runs to phonograph) I can't stand 
"Tipperary" when I'm mad ! (Spool wound up, she puts 

7 



8 HELPING CHARLIE 

it on table — looks at picture) 1 don't see how such a 

pleasant feller as you can be a butcher. Funny, the nicest 

beaux I've had was two butchers. {Wind moves win- 

dows^a slatty sound like hail) Boh ! Gettin' cold. I 

believe that's rain. Guess I'll fix the fire. (Looks at 

clock) Why, it's five. She'll be home in no time. (On 

knees at grate, fixing gas fire) What a mercy she took 

that grand new coat. Awful warm, but I hope she don't 

hurt it. (Loud peal at bell — then a number of short 

sharp peals. She jumps) There she is now. I'll bet 

she's had a great time by the way she rings. Guess I'll 

get my possessions out of here. (Picks up photograph and 

scraps, while the bell gives a series of chirpy, light rings. 

During ringing Phoebe starts to door L., pauses) Listen 

to her— ain't she the joyous one? Say, Jake, would you 

like me to be like that? You men like the gay innocent 

kind, don't you? And I wonder if you'd get me clo'es like 

she has? I bet she made 'em hold their breath with her 

style, if they are the biggest people in Harlem. (Sticks 

picture in apron bib as door bell gives a long ring) There, 

she's beginnin' all over again. Gosh, she's got her key, 

but she would bust if she didn't make me come to the 

door. (Starts to L. C.) Phew! I forgot the water pot. 

(^Rushes out L, while bell begins on the short sharp peals. 

By the time the bell ends the short, chirpy rings Phoebe 

returns with a glazed earthen vessel which she hangs 

on a chain suspended before grate. Starts singing 

"Tipperary" after fixing phonograph to take up tune 

zvhere it left off, and exit L. C. ) 

(A moment later enter Marion, L. C. swinging key on 

finger and joining in the song, as she dances. She is 

small and slim, her coat is loosened and slipping from 

her shoulder. Phoebe follows grinning.) 

Marian. (Removing gloves) Well, Miss Sourrumple, 

did I wake you up good and hard? That's why I always 

ring the bell, I know you're asleep and just getting ready 

to fall over on your range. Pull down the shades — put 



HELPING CHARLIE 9 

on more light — this is BUnd Man's Holiday — make a 
bigger fire ! Let us celebrate ! 

Phoebe. (As she runs around doing as bid) What 
kind of a time did you have, Mrs. Youngwife? 

Marian. Time? Grand! Joyous! Tra la la. I 
looked as swell as the swellest. Madame Mercier her- 
self — and, you know, Phoebe, she is the richest dresser 
in our set — had on a new creation from Madame Deven- 
ney of Fifth Avenue, while I — ^^well, would you believe, 
several ladies whispered they liked mine bettter. One 
of them asked if it was a Devenney ! And I said 'How 
did you guess it ?' And so it is a Devenney — by adoption, 
ahem ! — for her name label is tinder the arm, with the 
regulation violet sachet attached. Who would dream 
that the real mother of the creation is fat little Mrs. 
McPhee, in a tiny Sixth Avenue flat ! {Laughs, removes 
wrap, and lays it on piano) 

Phoebe. {Admiringly) You bet! Well, I should 
say! {Folds her arms and watches Marian as she takes 
off the hat and fingers it daintily) 

Marian. Then take my hat ! That too is by a great 
firm, Vignot- Youngwife. {Laughs chirpily) Half the firm 
lives in Paris, the other in a tiny Harlem flat in New 
York. They're not even acquainted, but their creations 
are marvelously alike. 

Phoebe. Don't know what you mean by creation that 
way, but I'll bet you're right. 

Marian. Of course, Miss Polly- Wants-a-Cracker. 
(Phoebe laughs and slaps side) How could they help it 
when I copied it from a genuine Vignot in Madame 
Rose's window.^ And then sewed a genuine head lining 
in that I found in an old hat when I was rummaging 
in the basement one day. {Tickled sort of laugh) 

Phoebe. Don't I remember that day! You found an 
old Leghorn and fixed it up for me, and I caught this 
butcher {laying hand on heart) right ofif with it. Come 



lo HELPING CHARLIE 

on over to the fire, Mrs. Youngwife — ain't it rainin' and 
cold out? {Bustles a chair to fireplace) 

Marian. Cold? What, with an imported Robinet on? 
But even an imported Robinet will get damp. (Spreads 
coat over hack of chair) 

Phoebe. Say, Mrs. Youngwife, don't you ever do that 
out — you know what I mean. Some snoopy thing that 
has the real kind might get onto it. 

Marian {Tossing head) No danger. They don't know 
Cheap and Skimpy. They'd never suspect anything when 
they once saw {in an ajfected tone) "Robinet et Com- 
pagnie" stitched in at the neck. Get onto it ! Why, 
Miss Nincompoop, (Phoebe roars again) it was my 
wrap that made the greatest sensation ! I believe I was 
the most envied woman there ! Positively ! Why, 
Madame Froideveau most — ^most— well, closely examined 
it. Seemed quite impressed. I believe she was taking 
notes — I thought she was what you call snoopy. And 
she the most elegant and yet the simplest dresser I know ! 

Phoebe. {Soberly) Say, don't you think, Mrs. Young- 
wife she ought to know better? I'd 'a not let her examine 
it if I was you. It don't seem's if a woman who always 
wears the things you're always tryin' to copy, that she 
wouldn't — 

Marian. Lots o' things that don't seem possible are 
so, Miss Raven. (Phoebe laughs again) You can fool 
people every day, all the time, in everything. Just as easy 
as easy, Phoebe girl. 

Phoebe. {Shaking head solemnly) Well, maybe. 
But I don't know, Mrs. Youngwife. I couldn't, I'll bet 
you, because — because — well, tell truth, it don't seem 
exactly the right thing. It don't just exactly seem wrong, 
but — it — it don't seem right. 

Marian. {Gives a little squeak) Right thing! Why, 
what's wrong about it? The idea. I only do it to help 
my poor husband, and isn't that a right motive? (Phoebe 
nods her head at each sentiment through speech) Doesn't 



HELPING CHARLIE ii 

he work night and day for success ? And who would be- 
Heve he was making any progress if they knew I got my 
clothes from McPhee and Cheap and Skimpy, those I 
didn't manufacture myself? (Phoebe opens lips to speak 
— Marian runs to her, puts arms over shoulders and 
hands over mouth) No, no, Miss Croaker (Phoebe roars) 
not another word. Don't you know that the end justifies 
the means? 

Phoebe. {Taking hands from her mouth, and patting 
them gently) Well, I don't know. Our priest says — 
Marian. Tut, tut ! No, no, not another word, you 
Gorgon! (Phoebe roars) When, by a simple device that 
hurts nobody, I can aid my good little husband to appear 
very prosperous, in receipt of a big income, I think it my 
sacred duty to do so, small obstacles to the contrary not- 
withstanding. He deserves it. He would be far ahead 
of where he is if he didn't refuse to aid in fraud and 
wrong-doing by being a corporation lawyer. {Holds up 
her head proudly, struts up and down) 

Phoebe. I don't just know what is a corporation 
lawyer, but I do know — 

Marian. Now, now, now, Miss Praise-God-Barebones ! 
(Phoebe roars again as Marian rushes at her and covers 
her mouth again) Consider the artistic, economic and 
wifely pleasure you would deprive me of. See now ! 
{Steps back, poses like demonstrator) I go down Sixth 
Avenue to a regular Monday morning sale, I pick out a 
wrap that is fairly stylish and uncommon, I bring it home. 
I rip out the name of Cheap and Skimpy — or whosever 
it is — snip-snip! {Imitates scissors) I stitch in the name 
of Robinet et Compagnie — swish, swish, {Imitates draw- 
ing thread) I take off a button here, press a plait or two in 
a different direction there, let out a mistaken tuck, and 
hey! presto! see a creation by a leading mantua maker 
of Paris ! Really, Phoebe, you go to too many masses 
to appreciate my genius ! and I shall exercises that genius 



12 HELPING CHARLIE 

to ignore your moral lecture! {Runs to table) Who 
brought these lovely crocuses? 

Phoebe. My butcher boy. Not the feller that brings 
me the candy. This'ns mighty artistic, if he is only a 
butcher. I'm sorry the gilly didn't bring 'em in time for 
you to wear to the reception. 

Marian. Oh, you cute dear ! I couldn't exactly wear 
crocuses to a reception — they won't stay put ! But I love 
them. (Kisses them daintily) They always seem to long 
for the cool green woods. But for that I'll make you 
a — ur — a Madame Paquin spring hat ! (Parades up and 
down) With — ur — crocuses on. 

Phoebe. Why, hov/ would they stay put, as you call 
it. Wouldn't they wither right off? 

Marian. Very true, that's why I should not sew them 
on, Innocent ! I mean the crocuses I wore on my last 
spring hat. 

Phoebe. Oh, thank you. And for me, you can leave 
off the Madam Pickin part. 

Marian. Well, we'll see. As it's for you, not for me. 
Oh, Phoebe, you should have seen Dr. Smith's wife. She 
raised her brows — just like that ! and said she hadn't been 
able to get a Robinet since she was married, although 
she wore nothing else before. Said she was sorry her 
husband was not a lawyer, instead of a doctor. Mean 
thing! And she looked real — real — 

Phoebe. Unbelievin', the sitinker ! But maybe she 
suspected ! I'll tell you its risky — ^don't go too far, don't, 
Mrs. Youngwife. My butcher always says about them 
things " 'tis a game not worth the candle !" 

Marian. What ! The game of pushing your husband 
isn't worth any candle? Phoebe bird, you'll not make the 
butcher a good wife — I'll wait for him and put a flea in 
hi^ ear. (Phoebe roars) La la la. I think I'll put my 
slippers on, my feet hurt. Oh dear, these cheap swell 
boots ! Phoebe sweet, get me my slippers. (Limps to 
sofa, sits down, begins to unlace shoes, with groans) 



HELPING CHARLIE 13 

Phoebe. (Laughs, starts for bedroom L.) Well, if 
my butcher let me do that for him, I'd not make him a 
wife at all. (Exit Phoebe as Marian pretends to throw 
shoe at her. Bell rings) 

Marian. {Yawning) There's Charlie. He's early. 
(Raises voice, speaks down L.) Phoebe, Phoebe, touch 
the button in the kitchen, there's Mr. Youngwife. (Pulls 
off shoe — pretends to fall over. Sits up, pulls off other 
shoe, falls over again) Oh-h-h-h ! (Sits up, rubs feet 
together as she says reflectively) Humph! Imagine 
Phoebe lecturing me on such a subject, Phoebe who 
breaks my china and hides it away; and puts my gilt 
dishes into hot water and says she don't know how the 
gilt came off! Well, virtue is a funny thing, a perfect 
chameleon taking on the color of the party who's wearing 
it. Risk! Why there isn't any. Its all to the good. 
I've got several clients for Charlie just by dressing well. 
He said so himself. So it makes people think the darling's 
a prominent and rising attorney. And so he is ! Hurrah ! 
(Jumps up) All's fair in Love and — yes, this is WAR. 
War against Failure ! Phoebe, I say, Phoebe, where are 
my slippers? (Stands on one foot. Bell rings again) 
Guess I'll get them when I go after them. (Exit L. 
bedroom) 

Phoebe. (Appearing L.) That don't sound like his 
ring. 

Marian. (Poking head in between portieres) Say, 
Phoebe, that isn't he — who can it be? Is everything all 
right ? There ! somebody's at the hall door — ^go let him 
in, and get his ^ name for me, now mind. (Disappears. 
Phoebe disappears L. C. In a few moments enter Marian 
in slippers and pretty negligee, putting finishing touches 
to toilet.) 

Marian. Wonder who it is? Hope it's nobody to 
dinner, for I've only got the remains of that old pork 
roast — (Door L. C. opens, Phoebe ushers in a tall, 
foreign-looking man) 



14 HELPING CHARLIE 

Phoebe. Mr. Fraud-oh. {Shrugs her shoulders hack 
of him, as he steps into room. Phoebe outside closes 
door. Froideveau smiles amusedly and bows profoundly) 

Froideveau. Do I see Madame Youngwife? 

Marian. I am Mrs. Youngwife. Will you be seated 
at the fire ? You must be damp. 

Froideveau. Ah-h-h- ! no, thank you, Madame, the 
rain is passing. I shall perhaps be so speedy it will not 
be necessary to be seated. 

Marian. But my husband is not home, and I suppose 
it is he you wish to see. If you will be seated, I will get 
you the paper, and you will not wait long. 

Froideveau, Ah-h-h-! No, no, no, Madame, it is 
not Monsieur I wish to see. I wish to see Madame her- 
self, and it is true it will only take a short time. I hope 
Madame will not be offended at a slight question I would 
ask her. 

Marian. Offended at a slight question? How could 
I be so foolish? (He looks about the room stealthily as 
they speak. Both smile) 

Froideveau. Ah, surely, as Madame says, what could 
I ask that would offend her? (Sees wrap on back of 
chair) Surely nothing in reason. And it is to protect her 
after all. 

Marian. You really pique my curiosity, Mr. . . . ah, 
Fraudow. Is it anything in connection with my husband? 
(Anxiously) 

Froideveau. Oh, no, no, no, my dear Madame. Some- 
thing of much less import, I assure you. 

Marian. (Laughing nervously, noting his glance) 
Yes, but what? You get more mysterious. 

Froideveau. (Goes to wrap, touches it, — courteously 
but earnestly) My dear Madame, is it proper that I should 
ask where you purchased this wrap? 

Marian. (Troubled) But, my dear sir, how can that 
interest you? 

Froideveau. I fear, ah, Madame, it is hard to tell a 



HELPING CHARLIE 15 

lady, and such a one, a friend of the estimable Madame 
Mercier, my relative, how can I tell her it is — a sham! 
(Whips wrap from chair back, flirts it open, drapes it 
against him like a salesman displaying wares) Behold! 

Marian. A sham ! Sir, I do not know what you mean, 
or what brought you here, or why I listen to you. Please^ 

Froideveau. Ah, do not be angry, my dear Madame. 
My wife, she was at Madame Mercier's reception this 
afternoon — she is a niece of Madame's — and there a lady 
took ill— 

Marian. Mrs. Black. 

Froideveau. And my wife accompanied Madame 
Black to the room for her wrap, and picked up this one 
by mistake. Before she laid it down she perceived the 
name label. I will tell Madame (Reaches card) that I am 
the New York representative of Robinet et Compagnie, 
now for ten years, as long as I am married; and my wife 
knows their goods as well as I myself. My wife says 
the coat is a sham. 

Marian. Sir! 

Froideveau. Ah, believe, my dear Madame, you have 
been most miserably deceived. Let me but know the firm 
that has committed such a crime, and Madame shall have 
it made good to her, as well as that the firm shall be most 
miserably punished. 

Marian. (Boldly, but watching door for Charlie's 
coming) Why, how could you undertake to make such 
a statement? 

Froideveau. Ah, Madame, but look ! The bad finish. 
M. Robinet would weep to see his name within. And 
the lining — so cheap I And the name-label — machine- 
stitched, while we keep expert needlewomen to embroider 
them in. 

Marian. Indeed! Quite unusual. 

Froideveau. Finally, Madame, we do not use this 
cheap grade of broadcloth for such style garment. Ah, 
such a sham! 



i6 HELPING CHARLIE 

Marian. It is too bad. I hate shams. (Looks at door 
anxiously) 

Froideveau. But, Madame will tell me from where 
she has bought it? 

Marian. Really— 

Froidveau. Only for my own use, Madame, for I 
have no doubt this will not come into court. 

Marian (Terrified) Into court? Oh dear, no. Wait, 
please, till my husband — 

Froideveau. It is quite unnecessary, my dear Madame, 
you have only to tell me where you bought the wrap. 
Then I go to the rascal, terrify him with threats, he, 
promises to never again usurp the name of Eugene 
Robinet et Cie., he gives me your money back, — and — 
all's well that ends well ! (Folds wrap contemptuously, 
drops it on piano) 

Marian. (Trembling) But I think you had better 
wait till my husband comes home. I will tell him all 
about it, and — 

Froideveau. But Madame — 

Marian. (Coaxingly) You know he is a lawyer. 

Froideveau. Ah, Madame is so innocent, she does not 
understand. Let me tell Madame the fellow is a swindler, 
a thief, he misrepresents his goods, he takes people's 
money on false pretenses — 

Marian. (Murmurs, scared) Yes,- sir. 

Froideveau. He occupies a business, yes, a social 
position without merit — 

Marian. Yes, sir. 

Froideveau. People think of the rascal as of more 
consequence than his superiors! 

Marian. Indeed, yes. 

Froideveau. As if he were Eugene Robinet. 

Marian. Yes, yes. 

Froideveau. So now Madame understands. 

Marian. (Timidly) But why does it matter, Mr. 



HELPING CHARLIE 17 

Froideveau? Why should the man not be ambitious — 
is it a crime? 

Froideveau. {Rolling eyes, groaning) Ah, Madame, 
helas ! Madame is as innocent as an infant. It is deU- 
cious. See, Madame. {As if she were a child) The law 
then is very severe, it punishes with fine, with imprison- 
ment, such false pretense. When a man with years of 
labor and hardship has built up a name for excellence 
of workmanship and for integrity, then along comes a 
fellow who cares not how cheap his goods may be, or 
how little he keeps his agreements with his creditors : 
he steals the other man's name and business, and poof ! 
all the fine reputation is gone ! 

Marian. Yes, sir. 

Froideveau. And this man's name, Madame? 

Marian. {Faintly) I — I forget — that is — I — 

Froideveau. Ah, Madame, do not shield him — what 
price did Madame pay? 

Marian {Falters, almost zveeping) Indeed, I do not 
remember. I rather think it was my husb — 

Froideveau. {Springing forward) Ah, I see, Ma- 
dame's husband bought i't. Poor man, he could be de- 
ceived, whereas Madame would perhaps examine. See 
now, dear Madame, a wrap like this was meant to be, 
would be by Robinet valued at not less than $100, 
perhaps more. {He takes wrap again to examine. She 
is almost fainting and turns to walk to couch. He folds 
wrap neatly, lays it in shelf under top of table. She drops 
into rocking chair.) 

Froideveau. But Madame is ill with chagrin. Ma- 
dame must not be troubled. She will tell me the name. 
I will go, perhaps enter suit, if they will not be reason- 
able and Madame shall not perhaps appear at all. 

Marlan. {Faintly) I think — I believe it was Rosen- 
blatt, on Broadway. 

Froideveau. What! Rosenblatt! Strange! How- 



i8 HELPING CHARLIE 

ever, if Madame will give me her husband's business 
card — 

Marian. Oh, certainly! (Jumps up eagerly, runs to 
card plate on table, brings card, drops into chair weakly) 

Froideveau. Ah, thanks, Madame, I go. Rest as- 
sured, Madame shall have as little trouble as possible. 
Good day, Madame, good day. (Walks toward door L. C. 
She rises.) 

Marian. (Faintly) Good day, Mr. Froideveau. My 
husband will know what to do. 

Froideveau. Ah, without doubt, Madame. Compose 
yourself. (Bows himself out of room. She listens till 
she hears hall door close, then she drops into chair and 
begins to wail loudly. Phoebe runs in L.) 

Phoebe. (Half crying) Goodness gracious, Mrs. 
Youngwife, what's the matter? 

Marian. Oh, that dreadful man. 

Phoebe. Who was he? What did he want? 

Marian. He wanted the name of the firm that made 
my wrap. 

Phoebe. For j^oodness sake, how awful ! 

Marian. Oh, he is an agent, oh, oh! 

Phoebe. Oh, is that all? I thought it was the feller 
that made the real ones. 

Marian. Goose! He says he is Robinet's representa- 
tive, that's the people I say made the wrap. Oh-h-h-h ! 

Phoebe. Lordy me! It's come at last. Gracious 
goodness. (Pauses scared. Then brightens up) But see 
here, you mustn't carry on so. He can't do anything — 
what can he do ? How did he find out ? 

Marian. Oh, oh, he is Madame Froideveau's husband 
— the woman I said seemed to be taking notes about my 
coat. Oh^h-h! 

Phoebe. I guess you were right all right. Well, I 
told you so. 

Marian. Shut up, if that's all the — 

Phoebe. That's so. I ought to be ashamed. It's cold 



HELPIN(;; CHARLIE 19 

comfort to say "that's so." Poor girl, and all you wanted 
was to look beautiful and help your husband. I wonder 
what he can do. There, there, don't cry so. We must 
think. Does Mr. Youngwife know anything about your 
doing this, ma'am? 

Marian. {Looking up with tears in eyes.) Why, 
idiot, how dare you ask such a thing! Why — ^why, my 
husband would die before he'd ch-ch-ch — oh dear, I guess 
it is cheating, that man said so ! Phoebe, Phoebe, you 
said you wouldn't ever do it, why did you — let me — do 
it? A fine girl you are to — to {Sohs) 

Phoebe. {Compassionately) There, there's a dear, 
I couldn't stop you ; you know I did say something against 
it. I don't believe you'd a stopped for Mr. Youngwife 
himself — 

Marian. {Jumping up, acting hysterically) Oh, oh, 
he'll pound me black and blue, oh ! 

Phoebe. {Giggling) Just imagine a gentleman that's 
kind even to the cat, and just worships you, pounding 
you black and blue, he ! he ! Come on, cheer up. We'd 
better tell him right away. 

Marian. I won't — Never! He'll leave me — he'll get 
divorced. Oh, a nice friend you not to insist on my stop- 
ping — ^haven't I always been a friend to you? — 

Phoebe. But I'm only your housemaid — and you al- 
ways tell me to shut up when I say what you don't want 
to hear. What did the feller say — try and tell me. Maybe 
I can think of something. 

Marian. He said — oh, I'll be disgraced forever and 
ever. He said it was awful — said the firm thait sold it 
to me with the Robinet name in were swindlers! {Scream) 

Phoebe. {Reflectively) That's what I'd think if there 
was such a firm! 

Marian. Shut up ! You always say the wrong thing ! 
And he's gone down to Mr. Youngwife's office. Oh-h-h ! 

Phoebe. Now, the devil will be to pay. I think it 
would have been awful much better if you'd told your 



20 HELPING CHARLIE 

husband instead of him. Come on, get ahead of the old 
Frenchy and let your husband know all about it. Shall 
you or me telephone? 

Marian. (Jumping up excitedly) Sure enough. That's 
the thing. (Rushes from room L.) 

Phoebe. (Hand to head) Here's a pretty how-de-do. 
Wonder where that coat is — ^better get it out of the way. 
(Hunts for wrap) 

Marian. (Rushing in) I can't — I can't do it. I can't 
say it over the 'phone ! I feel like confessing murder — 
oh-h-h ! 

Phoebe. Maybe I can do it. Don't carry on so — lots 
of folks "has done worse'n that ! Murder, f'rinstance! 
(Phoebe exit L., Marian screaming after her) 

Marian. No, don't. Mind your own business, Phoebe 
Busybody ! Don't meddle in other people's affairs. Oh-h-h ! 

Phoebe. (Back at portieres) Then do it yourself — 
I'm sure I don't like the job. I'll go out of the flat while 
you talk to him — ^but you mustn't waste time. (Phoebe 
enters, starts out of hall door L. C. ) 

Marian. Where, oh, where are you going? You — you 
wouldn't desert me (Voice rising hysterically) in my 
trouble ! 

Phoebe. Oh, no, I was only running away from fambly 
secrets — I'll do that every time ! 

Marian. Oh, Phoebe, dear, dear Phoebe, go and do 
it for me. Do it gently — as — has ki-indly as — (Sobs) 
just speak of the agent — don't say I did it. 

Phoebe. (Affectionately) No, I won't, bless your 
poor heart. It's many a waist and hat you've fixed me. 
(Exit L. Marian sobs and murmurs contritely) 

Phoebe. (As she enters L.) You're in luck, so spruce 
up. That feller has a car, I'll bet, for he got there just 
as I finished talking. I heard him asking for Mr. Yoimg- 
wife, just as I said, "What'll she do?" And he hung up. 

Marian. (Springing up wildly) I've thought of some- 
thing — I'll rip the name of Robinet out of the — 



HELPING CHARLIE 21 

Phoebe. Too late. He's seen it all right. 

Marian. (Looking on piano) Why, it isn't here! 
Oh, he has taken it away with him. 

Phoebe. Why, what on earth would he want with it ! 

Marian. For evidence — for evidence. Oh, oh ! (Sobs, 
throws herself on couch) 

Phoebe. Oh, I don't know. He seemed a real gentle- 
man, I'm sure he'd ast you first. Well, I must go and 
'tend to my dinner or it'll be late.' (Exit L. leaving 
Marian sobbing quietly.) 
(Curtain for a minute, to represent the lapse of half an 

hour. When the curtain rises, the door bell is ringing. 

Phoebe enters L.) 

Phoebe. Mebbe that's him come back. Spruce up now 
and don't let on. (Starts toward door L. C.) 

Marian. (Starting from couch) Oh, oh, don't let 
him in. 

Phoebe. All right, but mebbe 'taint him. (Doorbell 
rings louder.) 

Marian. Oh, oh! (Savagely) Why don't you answer 
the door, girl? 

Phoebe. All right. 

Marian. (Gurgling despairingly) Wa-wait, oh, wait 
till I think. Is it Mr. Youngwife, do you suppose? 

Phoebe. Don't know. Might be. 

Marian. Oh, go quick. Why don't you open the door 
when I tell you? (Phoebe exits, L. C. Returns presently 
L. C, loud whisper) 

Phoebe. It's just a message from Mr. Youngwife, 
ma'am. Here, I got it from him — ^said you were sick. 
(Hands envelope to Marian. Marian sobs as she opens 
and reads. Wrings hands, flings letter from her) 

Marian. Oh, oh! 

Phoebe. He's waitin' for an answer. (Phoebe picks 
up message and reads) Oh, you have to send an answer. 
Come, wake up — wake up. (Shakes Marian gently) 



.22 HELPING CHARLIE 

Marian. I won't go, I won't go. What can they want 
of me ! Oh, oh. 

Phoebe. Oh, your husband wouldn't send after you 
if there was any danger. 

Marian. Do you suppose that dreadful Froideveau 
took a policeman to the office with him? Char — my hus- 
husband would expect I could explain all right. Oh, 
oh, oh. {Sobs and paces up and down) 

Phoebe, Now, look here, ma'am, you're gettin' into 
a condition like — like a — a murderer — ur — ought to. I'll 
go out and ast the boy. And you be gettin' some back- 
bone in you. (Exit L. C. Marian stands tense waiting 
for Phoebe. Phoebe returns L. C.) 

Phoebe. He says the Frenchy feller is with Mr. 
Youngwife, but they ain't any policeman. They was 
laughin' and smokin'. Got your message ready? 

Marian. Oh, oh. Go and ask him if it is raining 
out yet. 

Phoebe. Why, what's that got — (Rolls eyes, throws 
up hands, exit L. C.) 

Phoebe. (Returning door L. C.) He says it is some. 
He wants his message. 

Marian. I don't know what — ask him if he likes 
crocuses. 

Phoebe. No, I won't neither, he'll think I'm crazy. 
He wants his message. 

Marian. (Tearfully) Oh, Phoebe, do take him some 
— some flowers — put 'em in his buttonhole — 'be a long 
time. I — I'll write the note, only give me time. You 
know how to jolly any man, oh, Phoebe, keep him busy! 
(Sohs) 

Phoebe. (Flattered, takes a few flowers) Well, hurry, 
don't be long. (Exit L. C. Marian runs to desk, with 
sobs, wiping nose and sighing, writes desperately. Phoebe 
returns, pulls note from under her hand) 

Phoebe. Can I see — um — um. All right. Dress quick's 
you ever did in your life. (Exit L. C. talking — Marian 



HELPING CHARLIE 23 

exit L. face in handkerchief. Phoebe returns L. C. 
Marian calls from within) 

Marian. Find my wrap, Phoebe. I've nothing else 
to wear. 

Phoebe. (Hunting) Better wear your last year's .wrap. 
I certainly wouldn't wear this'n. Besides, I can't find it. 

MA*biAN. He put it on the piano, I saw him. I won't 
wear that three-year old coat, now. 

Phoebe. (Hunting) There you are now. You won't 
never take any advice. I can't find it. I guess you'll 
have to wear your last year's or mine. Mine's older, but 
a fine lady gave it to me and it's some style — or it was one 
day. I'll get it. (Hurries out L. C. Enter Marian L.) 

Marian. Oh! Phoebe's coat. Well, the wages of 
deception is to wear — ^ugh ! what do they wear in the 
penitentiary ! (Shudders. Enter Phoebe with large old- 
fashioned wrap. Marian takes it and examines with 
wry face) 

Marian. Humph! I'll try my medicine. (Tries on 
dolman, parades before glass) It's all up, Phoebe. I've 
suddenly thought — I can't go. And I'm not sorry — 
between your coat and my old coat I would as leave go to 
the Pen ! (Throws Phoebe's coat to her with a shudder) 
You see, I haven't a garment on that hasn't a wrong mark. 

Phoebe. Well, they ain't goin' to strip you. 

Marian. How do you know? They do those things 
in the police court. (Laughs nervously) 

Phoebe. Well, and what would Mr. Youngwife be 
doin' while they were searchin'? You'd better get down 
to solid facts and think what you'll do when the pinch 
comes. 

Marian. (Trembling) Oh, oh. Do you think the 
pinch will come? 

Phoebe. Come on now, sit down. If you ain't goin', 
what'll I go tell him? 

Marian. But suppose — suppose my husband was so 



24 HELPING CHARLIE 

sure I'd make it all right that — Oh, Phoebe, you have no 
imagination. 

Phoebe. Glad I haven't if this is the way it carries on. 
Are you goin' to go ? 

MAjtiAN. Oh, I can't, I can't. 

Phoebe. All right. I'll go tell him you're sick and 
can't come. 

Marian. {Meekly) Yes, thank you, Phoebe. {Exit 
Phoebe L., Marian cries quietly. Enter Phoebe with 
wet towel) 

Phoebe. Now, for the Lord's sake, please, Mrs. 
Youngwife, hush up, or you'll go crazy. You're lookin' 
that haggard and old (Marian screams, jumps up, goes 
to glass) you can't go to no reception for a week. {Pushes 
Marian back in chair, wraps tozvel around her head) 

Marian. Oh, look out, it's all wet. {Flings towel 
across room, weeping) 

Phoebe. {Arms akimbo) Well, that's what I brought 
it for. I guess a dry towel wouldn't be much good. 

Marian. And don't speak to me of receptions. I'll 
never, never dress respectably again or go to any more 
affairs, I swear! {Hand up) Oh-h-h-h ! 

Phoebe. I wouldn't, if you ain't goin' to dress respect- 
able any more ! {Picks up towel, stands a moment look- 
ing at Marian, exit resolutely L. Door slams — bell rings 
— door slams again. Marian is frightened, jumps up to 
hide. ) 

Marian. Oh, they're coming. But they shan't find 
me! {Opens box couch. Enter Phoebe) 

Phoebe. What are you a-doin'? 

Marian. I thought somebody — I thought they were 
coming, and I was — I heard doors and bells, and bells 
and doors. Oh, dear! 

Phoebe. You heard the telephone and the kitchen 
door a-slammin'. Fix yourself up, he's a-comin' out here. 

Marian. {Screams) What — who — where? Oh, hide 
me, hide me. Did you say — 



HELPING CHARLIE 25 

Phoebe. {Doggedly) Yes, I said he was comin' and 
bringin' Mr. Fraddyoh too. 

Marian. {With composure of desperation) All right. 
Loan me that wrap, Phoebe. I won't be home. 

PHOEBp. Yes, you will. It's rainin', and they won't 
believe a sick woman went out. 

Marian. I'll go to bed. 

Phoebe. All right. That's where they'll expect to 
find you. 

Marian. I'll hide in the wardrobe — in the bathroom. 
I won't see anybody. 

Phoebe. Yes, I would, so they'll know you did it. 
Shame your husband. 

Marian. {Throwing herself on couch) Oh, Phoebe, 
how hard-hearted you are. If you were I, what would 
you do — what would you do? Would you kill yourself? 
{Sits up looking rather cheerful) 

Phoebe. Now, that's natural — you're comin' to your 
senses. Why, I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd just make 
a clean breast of it. In the end that'll be the best thing. 

Marian. {Starting up in horror) What? Confess? 

Phoebe. If that's what you call it. It'll take about 
two minutes, and ain't anything they'd send you to jail 
for, I don't believe. Anyhow, you got a lawyer in the 
family. And think how good you'll feel afterwards. 
Why, it ain't anything. It's like, will you have a a:hin' 
tooth pulled or won't you? I'd say every time — pull away! 

Marian. {Falls hack on couch) Oh-h-h-h! 

Phoebe. You know 'tain't just right anyhow. Mr. 
Youngwife'd hate it, don't you think? And the longer 
it lasts the worse it gets to be found out. Just make up 
your mind. {Starts to go out L.) 

Marian. Where are you going? Don't leave me alone, 
don't — oh-h-h-h! {Sobs, beats couch pillow) 
. Phoebe. That dinner needs some attention, I know. 
And you can make up your mind as well alone as me 



26 HELPING CHARLIE 

bein' here. (Marian sits up, sobs. When Phoebe gets 
to portieres she says jerkily) 

Marian. I suppose — for your sake — I ought to — tell ! 

Phoebe. Oh, Lord, no ! Don't consider me at all. 
My conscience ain't hurtin' me. Your doin' wrong don't 
faze me. Tell for your own sake. (Phoebe bursts into 
loud laughter, throws apron over head, exit L.) 

Marian. (Woebegone) Oh-h-h-h ! (Bell rings. She 
screams softly) There they are. (Jumps up, looks 
around for escape) 

Phoebe. (A few moments later, outside door L. C.) 
She's right in the parlor, and in a bad way. She's that 
upset — and keeps talkin' about — well, sounds like — like 
police ! You must be very gentle with her, Mr. Youngwife. 

Marian. (Shaking finger at door L. C.) Phoebe, 
you'll get your walking papers for that as soon as they go 
— police indeed ! Oh-h-h-h ! (Steps at hall door, L. C. 
Marian, with little scream pitches headlong on couch, 
and curls up with a long moan. Enter Youngwife, fol- 
lowed by Froideveau, the latter with package under arm. 
Phoebe holds door L. C. ajar) 

Charlie. Why, Marian dear, what's the matter with 
you? You were well this morning? 

Froideveau. (Rubs hands together, coughs and hides 
smile with hand) I fear I frightened Madame, poor child. 
I beg— 

Charlie. Come, my love, what's the matter? All Mr. 
Froideveau wants is to know where and how you got your 
wrap. I told him you would be glad to tell him all about 
it. I wouldn't let him go to Rosenblatt till I had seen 
you — they are clients of mine, dear — 

Marian. (Screams) Oh, clients — ^clients, Charlie? 

Charlie. Yes, and a very prominent firm, dear. There 
must be some mistake ! (Puts his arm about her and 
raises her up) Are you quite sure you got the coat at 
Rosenblatt's ? 

Marian. (Sobbing) Some mistake — some mistake! 



HELPING CHARLIE 2^ 

(Phoebe comes in L. C. slowly — catches Marian's eyes, 
shakes head. Places chair for Froideveau) 

Charlie. Ah, a mistake. He did not represent it as 
a Robinet, is that it, dear? 

Froideveau. But my dear Youngwife, the rascal has 
our name stitched in. 

Phoebe. Ahem ! 

Charlie. Are you very sure it is not a Robinet coat, 
Froideveau ? 

Phoebe. Ahem ! 

Froideveau. {Rising, opens his package, throws a 
coat similar to Marian's over the hack of a chair) Behold 
a Robinet! (Runs to table, gets Marian's coat, spreads 
on back of another chair) See, compare ! This is one 
of our cheapest — $125. (Marian screams, rolls hyster- 
ically on couch.) 

Phoebe. So that's where the coat was ! 

Froideveau. Compare, ladies (Politely includes 
Phoebe, who is flattered. Phoebe and Youngwife 
gather around him as he expatiates, Marian sits up, 
listening wildly) In this sham Robinet the seams are 
bound, in the real one the lining is made separate and 
then attached to coat. The plaits in ours are all embroid- 
ered down, and the name label embroidered in ; in this 
one it is all done by machine, bah! Ah, what do I see? 
An old name-label — at least five years old ! We use 
different ones now, see? (Marian falls over on couch 
with slight scream. Phoebe looks, nods) 

Charlie. Sure ! Even a tyro — that's me — can see 
the difference. 

Froideveau. (Coughs and covers mouth) Ah, Ma- 
dame, the rascal has deceived you sadly. I am enraged. 
I will punish him severely. 
Phoebe. Ahem ! 

Charlie. Be sure of the firm, darling. There is a 
fine, and term of imprisonment for such bold misrepre- , 



28 HELPING CHARLIE 

sentation! (Marian sobs dryly — rises from couch — 
Phoebe goes over, comforts her) 

Marian. I — oh, how can I tell it. Charlie, you will 
hate me, and the agent will mock at me and perhaps arrest 
me. I — I — oh, I stitched the name in myself ! {Almost 
screams) 

Charlie. What, you? 

Marian. Yes, I found the label.' I bought the coat 
at Cheap and Skimpy's on Grand Street, and I — I — 
{Breaks off in choking sobs. Phoebe hugs her) 

Charlie. Oh! {Puts hands under coat-tails, stalks 
away from couch) 

Marian. I did it to help you. I had to dress well. 
People will not have a- lawyer who isn't prosperous — 
and — and — {Breaks down again — Phoebe kisses her and 
hugs her) 

Charlie. And they will drop him when they find to 
what he owes his prosperity. 

Froideveau. {Arms o^iw^o) Madame! I am devoured 
with respect for your talent. For your devotion ! Ah, 
sir, let me congratulate you that you have a beautiful wife 
so devoted to — to — your welfare, that she will lay herself 
open to the law to aid in your success ! 

Marian. {Sobbing) Oh, that isn't the only time! I 
might as well confess while I am at it. I've done it often ! 
I'm always doing it — (Charlie pauses — throws up 
hands) I have scarce a garment that isn't marked 
wro-o-o-ong! {Almost screams). 

Phoebe. She couldn't see anything wrong in it, poor 
little thing. 

Froideveau. Ah, Madame, see ! When a firm by long 
years of hard work and expensive advertisement gains 
a great name — 

Marian. You said it all before — I see now ! Oh, you 
will not send me to jail? 

Charlie. {Coldly) Oh, there is no danger of jail if 
that is all you fear! 



HELPING CHARLIE 29 

Phoebe. (Hugging Marian) I'd like to see him! 
Froideveau. (Kindly) Sir, it is not for us to be 
angry when our wives help us in the only way they know. 
It is for us to show them a better way. I know this lady 
would be equal to i^ for she is clever indeed. 

Charlie. I hope you don't think that anything in my 
attitude would suggest to my wife that such practices — 

Marian. (Drying tears indignantly) CharUe! 

Phoebe. Seems to me, Mr. Youngwife, you're not very 
thankful for her help. If my butcher — ahem! Why, 
even the agent isn't so hard on her ! 

Froideveau. (Laughing and rubbing hands) And he 
won't be either after a while. As for me, really, the little 
changes are done so deftly (Examining Marian's coat 
again) that if the lady ever wishes a position in our altera- 
tion department, let her come to me. I assure her the 
salary of the best workers is good. (Laughs) Never 
has the firm of Robinet et Cie. had a greater compliment, 
and my business methods too — except when some other 
ladies have done this also ! (Laughs) For I have dis- 
covered it is not firms who do this thing, but the ladies. 
And do I take them to jail? Ah! (Throws up hands 
scornfully) It is but natural ambition that moves them, 
and I fix it so they will always get a Robinet after that. 
Madame, let me present you! (Extends coat he has 
brought. Marian shakes head, and drops into chair. He 
drops in on her lap.) 

Charlie. By no means ! 

Froideveau. Did I not come to you for advice? You 
would not let me get into the swindling suit with Rosen- 
blatt. 

Charlie. My clients. But that is no reason. 

Froideveau. No, it is an obligation. We pay a lawyer 
for advice. Besides, Madame's talents ! Ah, she has at 
the same time convinced society of the importance of her 
husband (Digs Youngwife in ribs) and impressed on 
all the ladies at the reception the importance of the firm 



30 HELPING CHARLIE 

of Robinet et Cie. {Sticks thumbs in vest armholes, 
throws out chest, struts. Gets serious) Surely, my dear 
fellow, you can see where the poor child thought it worth 
while : you can think of some profit you reaped from her 
fine dressing — a case received — a client — 

Charlie. Unfortunately, yes. This case! (Froide- 
VEAU laughs consumedly, slaps knee. Phoebe joins him 
softly at first, then loudly, Charlie finally sheepishly 
joins in. Then Marion smiles dismally, zioipes tears, and 
caresses coat on knee.) 

Charlie. {Seats himself beside her) Well, my darl- 
ing, I must seem a hard-hearted wretch, {Puts arm 
around her) You certainly did try to help me, and I 
thank you, for you took a big risk. {Laughs — she hides 
face) But please don't try that way again. {Kisses her. 
Froideveau prepares to go, takes hat) As for the coat, 
Froideveau, please take it away. {Extends it to him) I 
can't bear to see it. The other is much more suited to 
our circumstances — and it shall have the right name of 
Cheap and Skimpy in it. (Marion screams softly and^ 
draws away from him) Perhaps I ought to have paid 
more attention to my wife's needs in the line of clothes — 

Phoebe. {Stepping back through portieres) Huh! I 
should think so ! 

Marion. {Moans) Oh, I can'-t wear it with that name 
in! (Froideveau nods to her and starts for door.) 

Charlie. And I'll try in the future to do so. Here, 
come back, Froideveau, I insist. We can not afford a 
Robinet — 

Froideveau. And Madame's beauty and taste can not 
afford a Cheap and Skimpy! It rejects such crude 
ornamentation ! And, when Madame wears this true 
Robinet, it will be such advertisement for our coats as 
will fully compensate us. I will charge the coat to ad- 
vertisement. (Marion rises and approaches Phoebe at 
portieres. ) 



HELPING CHARLIE 31 

Phoebe. Now, and that's that! — (Aloud) Dinner's 
ready, ma'am — (To Marion softly) Just you take that 
coat, never mind what mister says. The agent, he knows 
best. 

Charlie. What did you say, Phoebe? 

Phoebe. I was just a-sayin' the dinner will be burnt 
to a cinder if it ain't served right ofif. And, I'd like to 
say — I need that other coat. (With a broad smile) Mrs. 
Youngwife says my coat is a disgrace. My friends don't 
know nothin' about Rubberneck (Froideveau shouts) so 
I won't be in no danger ! 

Marian and Charlie. Phoebe ! 

Froideveau. That is one advantage of being the maid, 
Phoebe. 

Phoebe. Well, come on, please, and talk it over during 
dinner. The soup's gettin' cold. 

Charlie. Ah, Froideveau, be our guest — 

Marian (Wails') Oh, Charlie, we've only got — 

Phoebe. Pork roast, but I've made chicken salad out 
of it! 

Froideveau. Ha, ha! A Cheap and Skimpy Salad — 
I hope it's as good an imitation, Phoebe. And so we will 
prove that, in the twentieth century also, all's well that 
ends well ! 

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